


You can plead all you want, but I really have to go and get milk, right now.

by jedisagefish



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Handcuffs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Teasing, Topping from the Bottom, Whipping, dominance play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:36:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedisagefish/pseuds/jedisagefish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock thinks it's a good idea to take his boredom out on John, who doesn't take lightly to the teasing and gives Sherlock exactly what he's bargaining for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taking Charge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ObilyWobily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObilyWobily/gifts).



> Although I was somewhat tipsy throughout writing most of this, I still hope this little two-shot will strike your fancy.

“John,” Sherlock spoke with unmistakable urgency in his voice. John looked up from the newspaper he’d pretend to be reading. He was unsure why he even pretended, as Sherlock was perfectly capable to detect whether or not he was reading. Still, he had to make an attempt to escape the looming storm that was Sherlock’s rage.

“Yes?” John asked, looking at his friend as if he had no idea what could possibly be bothering Sherlock so much.

“My supply is gone.”

“Oh,” John said with fake, mild surprise in his tone of voice. Sherlock’s eyes locked on his.

“And I haven’t been on a case in eight hours!” Sherlock continued, ignoring John’s act. It was obvious to the both of them that John had purposely done something with Sherlock’s stash of drugs. Whenever John discovered whatever new hiding place Sherlock had come up with, he’d ensure the drugs to disappear. Sherlock knew this. Usually he didn’t argue, but today was one of those days that he did…

“I’m sure something will come up soon,” John said calmly. Sherlock passed a few times up and down the living room, until he came to a sudden halt and turned his attention back to John, who’d carefully picked out an article to read, to make it seem more realistic.

“You read that one this morning,” Sherlock replied, agitatedly. John folded the newspaper then and put it away. Obviously his act was over. “Where is it?” Sherlock challenged, looking at John, who sighed softly and gave no other response. “John, please,” Sherlock tried more reasonably now, but John shook his head. “ _Where_ is it, John?!” And he was back to being aggressive.

“Sherlock, you’ve been doing well, don’t start this again now.”

“Oh, don’t pull the same crap again, John,” Sherlock said as if it was the dullest thing anyone had ever told him. John tried not to take it personally, as he mostly tried with Sherlock’s remarks. “I’m not going to sit around all day doing nothing. I’ve done enough of that now.”

“Can’t you think of something else you could do?” John asked, though it was dangerous territory. It felt even more dangerous when Sherlock was silent for just a bit too long, before he looked up at John with that expression on his face that John had come to associate with bad news. “No, don’t even think about it. What are you thinking about?”

A moment later John was pressed to the couch with Sherlock effectively pinning him down to it, disallowing him to escape.

“Sherlock,” John warned, not as shocked by the event as he would have been a few weeks earlier, prior to the night that he’d cost Sherlock his virginity. Obviously things had changed since then. Changed quite drastically too, but definitely for the better.

Sherlock had been strangely affectionate at times. Well, if you looked out for it and John certainly did. The occasions that Sherlock refrained from a snide reply warmed John’s heart in ways he never thought anyone could touch him by simply not being an asshole. It meant a lot, John knew.

However, right now he had different things on his mind. Being pressed into the couch by his best friend, possible boyfriend (were they boyfriends?), had that effect on him.

“This wasn’t what I meant when I said you should find something else to do,” John told him. Sherlock let out a soft growl, between too viscous and strangely alluring. In other words, it was extremely thrilling. Still, John thought it wiser not to respond too excitedly. Sherlock wasn’t the expert in setting proper boundaries and John therefore didn’t want to push him to surpass them.

Over the past few weeks they certainly had developed their own strange way of… going about things. Since the night that Sherlock had lost his virginity he had become more and more intrigued by the act of sex, although he refrained from being any sort of sexual creature. It baffled John at times how Sherlock could stare at several types of porn without so much as a raised heartbeat.

Though, John had also come to understand there was a whole different part of Sherlock that was _very much_ allured by the strangest of kinks. It had become an experiment of sorts, that John was conducting without saying much about it to Sherlock who would probably disapprove of such a thing. But, John’s knowledge of all the different kinds of sexual play was far beyond that of Sherlock, so why shouldn’t he surprise the other from time to time? He often liked it, anyway. The orders, the bondage, the breath play. It had all been effective, much to John’s intrigue and amusement.

“Maybe I should order you around for a change,” Sherlock spoke. John wasn’t too surprised by the proposition as he’d read it in Sherlock’s expressions already from the moment the other had been above him. He’d hoped for Sherlock to see some sense, though.

“This is a very bad idea, Sherlock,” John spoke seriously, a hint of warning still in his voice. Sherlock smirked in response, seemingly not considering that John might be right. The shorter man tried to wiggle free from the grip, but Sherlock was far too keen to keep him there.

“You’re not even really trying,” Sherlock noted and it was true. “So it does excite you?”

“No, I’m just curious to see what exactly you will do,” John replied, trying desperately to believe himself that that was the only reason he wasn’t planning his escape. Sherlock’s smirk widened, though evidently he wasn’t too sure himself what he would do as he took a moment to glance from John, through the room, before his eyes fixated on something on the table that John couldn’t see. He tried to remember what object might have caught Sherlock’s interest, but unfortunately his visual memory wasn’t as powerful as Sherlock’s.

“Stay here,” Sherlock said as he looked down at John warningly. He waited a moment, before John sighed and nodded compliance. Sherlock got off the couch, stepped towards the table and grabbed whatever it was he’d seen. He effectively held it out of John’s view as he returned to the couch.

“Why don’t we just go to the bedroom and do this the… proper way?” John asked, choosing his words wisely. ‘Normal’ way wouldn’t do it. ‘Ordinary’ or ‘usual’ way certainly wouldn’t do it either. Even ‘proper’ sounded too… dull.

“Why would we do that?” Sherlock retorted, genuinely unable to find a single reason for that plan. John rolled his eyes, knowing he was as good as defeated. No argument would stand against Sherlock’s simple desire to escape boredom in the most exciting way he could think of in the present moment. He’d obviously made up his mind.

“Please don’t go too far, okay?” John said, as if he was explaining to a child not to cross the road.

“Fine,” Sherlock replied, though John wasn’t too sure whether he’d understood the gravity of the question. John didn’t want to admit he was worried, but he _was_ worried. Sherlock leaned over him, still not having shown him what he’d taken from the table. The detective tried to get a good grip on him again, while suddenly preoccupied with his wrist. _Ah, yes, of course…_ The handcuffs they’d acquired the other day on one of their cases…

“Sherlock, _no_!” John warned, again as if talking to a child, only this time more urgently. Sherlock didn’t listen and had chuffed his wrists together and around one of the metal bars of the couch. It wasn’t the most ideal position for John to be in, but it worked. “Sherlock, listen to me, you have that look in your eyes and I don’t like it.”

“What look?” Sherlock asked, looking at John innocently. Sherlock’s hands trailed down his arms and chest to his sides, where suddenly Sherlock decided to pinch him, before he set off to tickle John excessively. John yelped, before he went into a mad combination of giggling hysterically and screaming for Sherlock to stop.

It was only after John’s demands for Sherlock to stop had become more urgent than his laughter that the detective did indeed stop, but he didn’t get off John, who he thought looked rather good like this. Not helpless, but certainly on the verge of helpless. John was panting, though clearly relieved that Sherlock had stopped his torture.

“You can let me go now,” John told him, but Sherlock ignored it. He was already thinking of what to do next. John had done all sorts of things to him and he’d liked most of them. In fact, he’d liked all of it. It was exciting, thrilling, new… Mostly it had ended with John making love to him, which he thought might not be such a good thing to try right now. He – wait! He didn’t have to fuck John, to fuck him. Right? “No, no, Sherlock!” John said warningly, clearly having kept a close look on the detective’s expressions.

“What?” he asked, while looking down at John’s face.

“I don’t know what you’re going to do now, but I don’t want you to do it, okay?”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Sherlock replied, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. John rolled his eyes and was evidently displeased by Sherlock’s determination. Why had he let himself be tied down like this, it could never end up good. Or could it?

Sherlock started to undo his pants and John raised an eyebrow. Sherlock never took the lead in anything of this sort. He certainly wouldn’t undress John, unless the other had asked for it or it was obviously the next step of their nightly adventures and Sherlock hadn’t been able to wait for John to do it himself. But this time, he seemed to have made up his mind about the matter himself, without John needing to be aroused or remotely suggestive. In fact, he had been the opposite.

“Sherlock, seriously, don’t do what I think you’re going to do,” John said as his pants were being pulled down and off, quite violently so. Sherlock looked up into John’s eyes, a mild confused expression on his face.

“I don’t think you know what I’m going to do, then,” Sherlock replied, though not entirely sure of it himself. That worried John only further. Sherlock let out a laugh, but deliberately avoiding having to look into John’s eyes before he would find himself unable to stop his laughter. This was all rather silly, after all. John’s pants were off, but before Sherlock made his move he was decent enough to lean down to kiss John’s lips and whisper against them.

“You ready?”

“What? – ” Obviously John was flustered. “ – No!” But Sherlock was already determined and suddenly he moved down. “Oh.” John seemed to change his mind in 0.3 seconds, as he suddenly felt Sherlock’s lips around his shaft, working to take him in further.

Sherlock wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into him as this certainly wasn’t something he usually did. But he liked being mischievous and John certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. He felt John’s arousal grow and he continued to please the doctor until Sherlock thought he’d really had enough. Most of the time John chose any sort of discomfort over pleasing Sherlock. Well, that was how Sherlock liked it and not necessarily how John liked it, but it certainly didn’t stop the detective from wanting to give John something of his own making in return. Besides, this was fun.

“Sherlock, please don’t stop, why would you stop?” John asked, obviously annoyed and looking up at his friend in a mix of renewed anticipation and frustration. Sherlock smirked and that was all the response John was going to get to his question. “Please, Sherlock,” he said, while he watched Sherlock push his own pants down. “Don’t – don’t do _that_.”

“Do what?” Sherlock asked innocently.

“It – _me_!” John replied, annoyance clear in his voice. It was clear he really didn’t want Sherlock to try and for a moment the detective hesitated, only to continue to remove his pants. His underwear came off too and only then did he move back on top of John. “Really, Sherlock, this isn’t a joke.”

“John, why are you so worried?” Sherlock asked, a hand moving under his friend’s jumper to feel his skin. He was hot, sweating… Hm, Sherlock liked that. And he knew that his cold hands were somewhat of a relief to John, who did flinch at the pinch Sherlock gave his nipples. He really did like the reactions he pried out of the older man.

“I’m worried, because you’re not taking me seriously!” John retorted.

“Oh, I’m going to be ‘taking’ you _very_ seriously,” Sherlock replied cleverly, which only had John grunt in irritation.

Suddenly Sherlock shifted, seated himself differently on top of John. Almost as if he was going to let John wait for a moment longer. His fingers slipped between them and curled around John’s shaft as he was straddling his friend’s lap so he most certainly couldn’t use his legs to get away.

“Why does it scare you so?” Sherlock asked, liking the look he received from John in return for that ‘stupid question’.

“I really don’t want you to do it, understood?” John asked.

“Still trying to be bossy, are you?” Sherlock replied, though secretively he loved it when John was being bossy. It gave him all the opportunities to defy him, which would always make things better. He could picture the look in John’s eyes whenever Sherlock didn’t listen to him and it had him smirking. “Why would I listen to you?” Sherlock asked. John was slowly starting to get breathless again as Sherlock was pumping him, though deliberately not giving John the privacy he needed to feel comfortable with it, as he continued to look straight into John’s eyes.

“You’d listen to me, because you don’t want to hurt me,” John replied simply, though desperately trying to avoid Sherlock’s gaze, which was close to impossible as those eyes were simply too mesmerizing.

“Well,” Sherlock started, lowering himself and suddenly positioning himself differently again. “I wouldn’t say this should hurt you all too much,” the detective decided, his jaw clenching as he tried to bite through the pain of pushing John inside himself in a position he had never tried this in before. John’s eyes widened in surprise, but then fell shut as he let out a moan. Sherlock didn’t want to wait, he wanted to give John everything. He wanted to see John in a state of utter bliss, simply because Sherlock had given it to him. So, he moved further down, ignoring the pain the stretching caused him. It was nothing he hadn’t felt before and certainly nothing he wouldn’t accept for the look on John’s face as the frown came into play and John’s lips opened and finally…

“Sherlock…” John moaned.

Sherlock allowed John to enjoy the moment. At least like this he’d win some trust back, after the whole ordeal of Sherlock’s false intentions that John had picked up on so wonderfully. He really was easy to fool. It was wonderful.

He moved as well as he could, trying to find a position in which the pain wasn’t unbearable and he pushed his body into John’s, feeling John deep inside him. He gasped and realized his eyes had fallen shut, as when he opened them again John was looking straight at him, seemingly quite pleased with whatever expression had been on Sherlock’s face moments ago. No, John wasn’t supposed to feel any sort of pride or achievement in this. This was all Sherlock’s doing, not John’s!

So, the hand still underneath John’s jumper found his nipple again and twisted it painfully in means of punishment. John yelped out, quite surprised at the action.

“What?” Sherlock asked, as if he had no idea why John would make a noise like that. The truth was that he’d learned this trick from having John perform it on him many times before. It was as effective on John as it was on him, that was good to know.

“Jesus, you don’t have to hurt me,” John replied offensively.

“Don’t I?” Sherlock asked, not so sure of it himself.

“No! I don’t like that kind of stuff.”

“You like to do it to me,” Sherlock replied.

“Yes, because you like it,” John said.

“Nonsense.”

“No, it’s not nonsense!” John replied, though knew that going into a discussion with Sherlock’s massive intellect was about the worst idea anyone could ever have.

“You love it.”

“Well, yes, but I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t want me to,” John corrected his earlier statement.

“Which is why I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” Sherlock replied, which had John somewhat relieved. “But of course, I’ll have to try it out first, before I can be certain you don’t like it.”

“No, what you’re doing now is fine. Just keep going,” John said and to prove his point he moved his hips up into Sherlock, who let out a gasp at the feeling, his body tensing around John’s shaft, who was seemingly pleased with the effect. Sherlock immediately twisted John’s nipple again. “Sherlock! For fuck’s sake, is that necessary?!”

“You make it necessary!”

John rolled his eyes, but decided that not saying anything might be the less painful option here, so he wisely kept still. Sherlock moved his hips, a slow but steady rhythm that soon had John moaning. Sherlock tried to ignore how he felt himself being stretched, as he knew that his pain would only provide more pleasure for John, who was clearly enjoying the tightness. Good, let him enjoy it, Sherlock thought.

It wasn’t easy to move in his current position, with the amount of pain he was in, but slowly the pain was lessening as he was getting used to John. And, honestly, John’s expressions were worth it. He kept moving, allowing John to move his hips up into him as it felt incredibly good.

“Never thought you’d be so willing,” John said, which obviously was the wrong thing to say as Sherlock pushed him down into the couch hard and disallowed him from moving his hips up again. John groaned in protest, his eyes opening to look up at Sherlock who looked disapproving. “What is it now?” John asked frustratedly.

“Willing?” Sherlock repeated.

“You know what I mean,” John said, his hands tugging on the handcuffs in an attempt to free them, but it was obviously a useless try. “Please just go on with what you’re doing,” John said. “It felt good.”

“You can’t just offend me and then tell me to go on, John,” Sherlock made clear. John raised an eyebrow while looking up at the detective, obviously not all too impressed with the hidden threat. “I can stop and walk away if you’d rather have me do that.”

“No,” John quickly replied. “No, I’d much rather keep you here.”

“Then you should apologize,” Sherlock said.

“For _what_?” John asked. “This is ridiculous…” he muttered.

“Alright, then I’ll leave,” Sherlock said and he already made an attempt to get off John, who immediately protested.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, quite sincerely too. Strange, how the prospect of an orgasm could have such a big effect on a man. It amused Sherlock who didn’t try to hide it, as he looked at John expectantly. “And… I’m sorry for thinking I was in control.”

“Good,” Sherlock replied after a few seconds of silence, in which John nervously looked up at Sherlock in the hope he would indeed accept his apology. Slowly Sherlock continued to move and John let out soft moans. “I’m still not entirely sure you meant it, though.”

“What? Sherlock!” John said desperately. “Of course I meant it! You know I meant it! You’re Sherlock Holmes for God’s sake! Of course you know I meant it!” That amused Sherlock endlessly, as John was right, but it was so much fun to play with him that he wasn’t going to make it that easy.

“I don’t know,” Sherlock said, avoiding eye contact to make sure he could keep a serious expression. He was obviously going through the options here. “I’ll give you a minute.”

“A minute?” John asked confusedly.

“Yes, you’ll have a minute and if that’s not enough for you that’s your problem.”

“But Sherlock, I can never finish within the minute,” John objected. “You don’t even know what you’re doing!” Sherlock’s eyes narrowed at that and he looked down at John in annoyance.

“Half a minute, then.”

“No, sorry, I’m sorry, you do know what you’re doing,” John quickly corrected.

“Now you are plain out lying, John.”

“Yes, well…”

“Stop talking,” Sherlock demanded. “Half a minute.” Sherlock’s eyes turned to look at the clock that was hung on the wall. The time wasn’t right, but it still ticked and it would be accurate enough.

“Please, just – ” John started, but Sherlock cut him off.

“I told you to stop talking.”

John gritted his teeth, but then visibly tried to relax as he knew there was no way he would be able to convince Sherlock of a different plan. The only thing he could try to do now was to comply and hope that half a minute would be enough, even though he knew it could never be. Yes, he was incredibly aroused and Sherlock was incredibly tight, but he wasn’t _that_ young anymore. Nowadays it took only longer and, actually, he was quite pleased with that. It made the sex better, it lasted longer, made it more intense. Was it really necessary for Sherlock to use it against him?

“You better concentrate,” Sherlock said and their eyes met. Sherlock was as mischievous as anything and John had to smirk, but only until he reminded himself just how torturous this was going to be. “Your time starts now.” Sherlock did do his best, which surprised John. He could feel himself move deep within the other man and even the gasps that escaped Sherlock helped John along the way of that climb that he was desperate to finish now.

But how could half a minute be enough?! Stop thinking about that, he told himself, as it was a vicious distraction. Just look at Sherlock, he continued. Oh, how he wanted to move his hands through those curls and pull him closer. How he wanted to turn them around and fuck the living daylight out of him, just to get back at him for everything he was doing to John now.

John was moaning and moving his hips up to meet Sherlock’s, trying to find that perfect rhythm and motion. Soon enough he found it, but that didn’t mean it was anywhere near over. No, it was going so slowly! He groaned in frustration, but quickly told himself to just focus. He had no idea how much time he had left, for all he knew he still had enough time. Just look at Sherlock… How his lips parted just slightly. Look at his eyes, he told himself. This stupid prank was certainly causing them to sparkle brilliantly and John loved to see that, even though it was at his own cost.

But by God, it felt good. It might just… If he’d just move a bit quicker… a bit harder and deeper… John’s eyes fell shut then as he let the feelings take over. But suddenly Sherlock stopped and then slowly moved off. John’s eyes shot open to look at him.

“No, no, no, no!” he said. “You don’t understand, Sherlock.”

“I don’t?” Sherlock asked. “Then how is it I came up with this little plan?”

“No, I mean – please!”

“Pleading? You’re pleading on my first try? I think that means I did the job right.”

“Sherlock!” John said as the detective had moved off him entirely. He pulled the handcuffs that were starting to become incredibly uncomfortable and continuously more annoying. “Don’t just leave me!”

“Why not?” Sherlock asked, who was slowly getting dressed again, as if nothing had happened. It was horrible how disregarding he was of John’s obvious need. But it was also, strangely, alluring…

“I _need_ to – ”

“What?” Sherlock asked as John didn’t continue.

“You know what I need,” John replied.

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” Sherlock teased, talking in that casual way of his. It had John wild and furious and aroused and somewhat frightened at the same time.

“If you walk out on me like this I swear I’ll make your life a living hell the moment you release me.”

“Perhaps I won’t release you, then,” Sherlock replied. “On second thought…” he leaned closer to John, moving to his ear and he whispered softly. “That will be my pleasure.”

And he was off. John swore he heard Sherlock say something about needing to get milk before he heard the door slam shut and John wasn’t able to contain the scream that erupted through gritted teeth as he struggled to no avail.

Sherlock would not get away with this. He’d make him regret every single second of that half a minute he’d given John. And he’d, most certainly, make him regret not having given John more.


	2. Payback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the nice comments. They are so very much appreciated. I basically live off them!

It took two whole hours for Sherlock to return. It hadn’t been his intention to be out for _that_ long, but things had come up and he’d lost track of time. He felt a bit guilty about leaving John locked to the couch for all that time. It was quite a dangerous thing to do. Therefore Sherlock hurried on his way up the stairs, although he didn’t want to seem too pleased to be back. No, this game was far from over.

He’d have John –

Suddenly he found himself face flat on the ground. The bag of groceries he’d been carrying had scattered to the ground and he thought he heard the sound of seeping milk. Great. For once in his life he’d decided to do the groceries and actually returned with them, only to have them wrecked. But what had been the cause of his fall, exactly? He didn’t just trip over thin air…

He pushed himself up, eyes immediately turning to look at the couch where John no longer lay. He’d been so eager to get back here that he’d forgotten to actually pay attention. _He_ had forgotten to pay attention! Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Well, the string that John had strung so low to the ground that it was hardly visible wouldn’t have been easy to detect with his long coat in the way of his vision of it.

He got up onto hands and knees, only to hear the door slam shut and a voice behind him spoke monotonously.

“Nice of you to drop by.”

Before he was able to get up or look around at John, John moved a hand to his hair to pull him up like that.

“How did you get free?” Sherlock asked. “Oh, don’t tell me.” Eyes scanning the room, while ignoring the pain of John’s continuous pulling on his hair. “You asked Mrs. Hudson?!” Sherlock asked, though the evidence was clear.

“Well, she was already heading upstairs,” John spoke defensively. “I told her not to look.”

“I bet that worked out seamlessly.”

“It certainly had it’s advantages,” John replied and Sherlock loved to hear the anger in his voice. Although he was sure not to let John in on that little fact. No, he’d rather keep that to himself, before John thought of using it against him. Sherlock took his coat off, still ignoring John’s hand in his mop of curls.

“I bet you want me in the bedroom,” Sherlock stated matter-of-factly and with no indication that he would actually comply to such an order. Sherlock let out a groan as John’s hand twisted painfully in his hair, before the shorter man finally let him go. Obviously Sherlock’s lack of struggle made it less interesting.

“You’re an asshole. You’re a complete and utter asshole,” John clarified. Sherlock looked the shorter man over.

“I see you haven’t come yet.”

“What? – How? – _Sherlock_ …” John rolled his eyes, clearly wishing that hadn’t been an observation Sherlock had been able to make. The detective smirked, which renewed John’s fury. Oh, and there was so much of it. Fury and lust and need…

Perfect.

“I thought I’d let you wait for another day or two,” Sherlock casually stated, as he stepped into the living room. He’d leave the groceries for what they were. He hadn’t done his best in choosing them anyway. He tossed his coat across the nearest chair, but after that wasn’t able to do another two steps before John had closed in on him.

Obviously John had had time to prepare and the trick with the string was about the last he’d put in place. Sherlock could only guess what the other plans were, but was certain they weren’t going to be in his advantage.

“Now Sherlock,” John spoke kindly, but with definite ill intent in mind. “Why don’t you get on your knees and finish what you started?” For a few seconds Sherlock pretended to consider that.

“Err… no,” he decided and did an experimental step away from John, who was far too close to not mean any harm. Besides, John was angry. He was _really_ angry and Sherlock knew that he should feel bad about that, but at the same time he thought John was overreacting. Well, overreacting or not… this was going to be a challenge.

“If you’re not going to do as I say, I’ll just have to make you,” John stated and reached forward, surprising Sherlock with the sudden force downwards and they were on the ground within seconds, John on top of him, fuelled with rage. This was the second time today Sherlock found himself face flat on the ground, only this time it was a lot harder to breathe.

His arms were pinned to the side of his body as John sat on top of him, ensuring they were quite uselessly pressed to the ground underneath John’s legs. Meanwhile John had the freedom to do with his hands as he pleased. He pulled Sherlock’s head back, painfully and the detective let out a groan of warning for John to not pull any further. Luckily John listened, but he didn’t let go. The tension on his neck was far beyond pleasant, but that seemed to be John’s point.

“You’ll get up, go to the bedroom and lie down on the bed,” John ordered.

“M-hm,” was all the response Sherlock could give, who found it hard to breathe, let alone talk. All he wanted was for John to let go, because he had the feeling that any sudden movement might just break his neck. John might be a doctor, but when sufficiently angered he seemed to forget that. It wouldn’t be the first time Sherlock had come to learn that the hard way.

John let go of his head and Sherlock was about to move up as he felt John shift off him, but before he got the chance his wrists were cuffed together. Oh, for fuck’s sake…

John helped him up, as it had become a lot harder without being able to use his arms. A moment later all John’s kindness disappeared once more as he pushed Sherlock in the direction of the bedroom. Sherlock tried not to delay too much, but he did win about a minute or so, before he was faced with the choice; to listen to the order John had given him and he’d complied to, or to defy him already…

Apparently he had taken too long and John stood behind him a moment later, tearing his shirt open, ignoring the buttons that ripped off in the process. Obviously the shirt couldn’t come off entirely, with the handcuffs binding his wrists together, but John seemed to like the material uselessly hanging off his wrists. Besides, it made movement just that bit harder for Sherlock.

“You just tore my shirt,” Sherlock stated, as he looked down at the floor where two buttons had come to a halt after their fling to the ground.

“You were going to keep me tied to that bloody couch for two hours, Sherlock.”

“Fair enough.”

The detective did a step towards the bed, but then staggered in his steps at the unmistakable sound of John pulling his belt from the loops. He’d recognize that sound anywhere. A moment later the leather was around his throat and John was sufficiently closing it, pulling it shut around Sherlock’s throat to the point where breathing felt uncomfortable, but wasn’t yet impossible. Of course it thrilled him, but this wasn’t the moment to let John know just how much.

John’s hands moved to get rid of Sherlock’s pants, pushing them down aggressively.

“On the bed,” John commanded and shoved him towards it. Sherlock struggled to get onto it without using his arms, but soon he was lying on it, trying to find a means in which his face wouldn’t be pressed into the pillows or covers. He wasn’t sure what John was doing, as for a few seconds he’d been paying more attention to his own discomfort than John’s fidgeting. “I think it’s your turn to apologize, Sherlock,” John said calmly.

“No,” Sherlock replied, his voice muttered as he was speaking into the mattress. A moment later he realized just how bad of an idea it was to defy John when he was so obviously agitated and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

“Alright, I’ll just have to try a different approach,” John said, his voice a calm façade of the obvious truth that lay below. Oh, the need in his voice had Sherlock smirking, despite all the evidence he had that this really wasn’t the right time to do so. But he had _made_ John this desperate!

A line of sharp pain spread across his lower back and buttocks after John had decided on using Sherlock’s belt to torture him and leave a few bruises. Sherlock’s body arched at the sudden pain and he let out a soft cry.

“Apologize,” John said again, but Sherlock didn’t. That received him another thwack with the belt. He groaned, the burn that was left on his skin was certainly not an afterglow to be taken lightly.

“John, you’ve made your point!” Sherlock retorted, as he knew John was about to strike him again.

“Then apologize.”

“Ugh – OW!”

John laughed at his cry and it caused Sherlock to feel strangely at ease, despite the compromising position he was in. John’s fingers then trailed the marks the belt had left and he felt his skin tingle. Then John’s hand found the belt around Sherlock’s neck and pulled on it hard. He immediately felt himself choke and despite knowing he was safe with John, the fear that sparked after that feeling of helplessness was inevitable.

Then John was on top of him, pushing his legs apart. Sherlock breathed in sharply as the belt loosened around his neck. That left him no time to prepare for John’s sudden invasion and he felt himself stretch around John in a matter of seconds, as John didn’t wait for him to give a sign of compliance. Obviously this was what he got for not apologizing to John. Sherlock was groaning and moaning, gasping in pleasure and grunting in discomfort.

John was outdoing him, though, moaning in sheer pleasure from the moment he started a rhythm, moving in deeply and quickly picking up speed. It was rough and hard and Sherlock felt used, but he loved it. He also thought he deserved it after having let John wait all this time. In fact it surprised him when John moved an arm around his chest to make it just that bit more comfortable now he wasn’t having to bend his neck uncomfortably far to be able to breathe.

This was where fucking turned into love making and John held a firm grip on Sherlock, while pushing deep into his lover. There was no stopping them now. John had waited long enough. He wanted this too much and he was going to take it from Sherlock, who was oh so willing to give it to him now.

In fact, there was no one in the world that Sherlock would ever allow to be even remotely close to him like John was. There was no one, but John, that could treat him like this and get away with it. In fact, he wouldn’t let John get away with any less.

“Oh, Sherlock…” John moaned close to his ear and Sherlock felt himself shiver in response. It was a matter of moments. John’s body tensed behind him and the moans that erupted from him were evident of a fantastic orgasm that had been entirely worth the wait. Sherlock was panting by the time John pulled out of him. He was entirely flustered and out of breath, his arousal painfully pressing into the mattress now John was no longer keeping him up.

“John,” he groaned, at the lack of contact. “John!” he exclaimed more urgently then as John thwacked him with the belt once more, before he felt how the doctor moved the belt around his ankle and quickly attached it to the bedpost. He tried to kick him away with his other leg, but it was useless. He couldn’t turn to see where exactly John was, after all.

“Well then,” John said after securing the detective’s ankle to the bed. “Seeing as you spilled all the milk – ”

“That’s hardly original!” Sherlock stated, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

“No, but it works.”


End file.
